


Making the Beast Beautiful

by LadyWolf13



Series: Broken Souls [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Plot has appeared, ASoIaF, AU, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angst, Banter, Canon Divergence, Course Language, Cuddles, Cue Littlefinger, Curious Sansa, Dirty Talk, Emotional Sandor, Escape from King’s Landing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Horny, Horseriding, Humour, Innocent Sansa, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, Kidnapping, Kinda, Lemon, Lord Baelish, Love, Love Story, Lust, Nudity, Oral Sex, Orgasm, POV, PWP, Petyr Baelish - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Snuggling, Sweet Sandor, Swimming, Tavern fights, Teasing, acok, always smut, bare with me, blowjob, naked, sansan, sexually explicit content, the hound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWolf13/pseuds/LadyWolf13
Summary: Sandor couldn’t help going back for his little bird...





	1. On the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo here it is. I know I said I would continue with a time jump and it’s coming...but I couldn’t resist not changing the events of Blackwater Bay!! This is what happens when I procrastinate writing uni assignments...juicy SanSan. Because that’s so much more fun! I’m terrible. Enjoy!

> Fuck fuck fuck. Seven buggering hells. What the fuck had just happened? Sandor was breathing heavily as he wiped his face descending the stairs, still covered in the little bird’s juices. Gods, she had tasted like heaven. Just how he imagined for all these years. The battle was still raging on outside. Sandor could hear the screams and the roars of the flames and...gods, He needed more wine. He needed more Sansa. To think that would be the last time he would see her...kiss her...taste her...it was too much.

Without stopping to think, he quickly turned around and darted back up the stairs taking two at a time. He burst through Sansas door for the second time that evening. He was not prepared for the sight before his eyes. The little bird was perched on the floor wrapped in his cloak, sobbing softly. Her hair was a mess, cheeks streamed with tears.

Sansa’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of him looming in the doorway, his huge body taking up most of the frame.

‘Up, girl.’ Sandor was never one for consoling.

‘W-what? I can’t go with you.’

‘Bugger that,’ Sandor replied, before scooping her up in one swift movement and heading back down the stairs.

*************************

Sansa slid back in the saddle. She was a fucking awful rider for a highborn lady, so Sandor figured it would be much quicker for them both to ride on Stranger. Besides, he wasn’t going to say no to the little bird being pressed against his cock for days on end. He hadn’t been expecting her to move around so much in the bloody saddle however.

In one particular cafuffle, she had actually lifted her pert little arse off the saddle, only to come crashing back down into his lap, wiggling to make herself more comfortable. Already hard from remembering m how delicious she had tasted on his tongue, Sandor groaned from the contact and barked at her.

‘Keep still, little bird. Your feather ruffling is starting to get on my nerves.’

Sansa hugged herself impatiently in response.

‘Well I’m sorry, but I’m not used to riding such long distances. My bottom is getting rather sore.’

With that she glanced back at Sandor, and he couldn’t help but notice the little mischievous gleam in her eye as she looked up at his face. All the blood in his limbs rushing straight to his manhood at her not so innocent look, he growled and fixed her with one of his most menacing looks.

‘Maybe you’d like to be back in King’s Landing then. Should I turn back around to deliver you straight to Joff myself? Might be he’d reward his former dog.’

Sansa gasped, turning quickly back around in the saddle. Her eyes had told him enough; she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Her lip pouted and she lapsed into a sullen silence. Sandor smirked triumphantly, tightening his grip on his large arm wrapped securely around her waist.

Her closeness was driving him mad, the wind was pushing her intoxicating scent right into his nostrils, it was lucky that her hair was concealed beneath the large hood otherwise he was sure her smell would be even stronger.

Sansa was enjoying the feeling of his solid chest against her back also, and she smiled a secret smile remembering the events of the previous evening. She flushed as she pictured The Hound’s head down between her legs, doing..._that_, with his mouth. Her stomach flipped when she remembered the pure pleasure she felt when she finally released at his ministrations. She never knew it was possible to feel something like that...her mother nor her Septa had never mentioned it to her.

Sansa bit her lip at the memory, she didn’t know if it was the rocking of the horse or her wanton thoughts that were suddenly making her womanplace ache all over. She immediately became very aware of their close proximity on Stranger, and her breathing quickened.

Not sure what come over her, Sansa started rocking her hips ever so slowly in the saddle; so slightly Sandor would just think she was trying to mimic the horses movements to ease the ride - surely. Sansa was glad for the cloak that covered her hair and neck, she was sure Sandor would have noticed the blush creeping up her neck as she formed a rhythm with her hips, gasping silently from the small friction it allowed to soothe the ache between her legs.

_ What the fuck is she doing now? _

Sandor grinded his teeth as he felt the little bird move her hips repetitively in the saddle, each time pressing unknowningly against his bulging breeches. He figured she was just trying to get accustomed to Stranger to make the ride a little more comfortable...until he heard it.

A gasp. The same little gasp she made when he had his tongue flicking against her folds. With a grunt and not much thought, he thrust a hand under her arse, dragging up the cloak and her skirts to allow him access. He then reached around underneath the cloak and slipped a hand into her smallclothes, trailing his fingers through the soft hair there - to find her sopping wet.

Sandor let out a growl - almost feral. ‘Seven hells...’ he hissed against her neck. Sansa whipped her head back at him, panting slightly and eyes wide from the shock of his hand thrusting suddenly into her smallclothes. She looked so innocent it made Sandor want to roar with laughter. After last night, the little wolf was past that now.

‘Don’t give me those doe eyes, I know exactly what you were doing and it appears I’ve caught you in the act.’ Sandor said lowly, voice thick with arousal, tracing a thick finger around her wetness. Sansa bit her lip, stifling a moan as he plunged his finger inside of her.

‘Oh yes little bird...’ Sandor breathed against her neck. ‘Seems I need to take your mind off that sore bottom of yours.’ He pressed the bulge of his crotch into her behind to reiterate his statement.

At his words Sandor felt a surge of wetness soak his fingers and he growled as he kept one pumping in and out of her, circling her nub with his thumb. Sansa whimpered, unable to stop her hips from grinding against his hand as she leaned further back on his sturdy chest. Sandor cursed her having her hood up, he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her soft neck and lick and taste her skin.

Keeping one hand on Strangers reins, he began to rub her in earnest now...the little bird had teased herself enough, he thought smugly. Sansa’s head rolled back in pleasure, panting and moaning softly as she looked up at Sandor. She couldn’t believe she was doing something like this - out here in the open! She felt so..._wild_.

Sandor looked down at her beautiful face, wanting nothing more than to kiss her...but somehow, here, now, while he was sober...it felt too intimate. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how delicious her swollen bottom lip looked from her biting it.

Sandor could tell the little bird was getting close. Her eyes were fluttering, and her breath was coming in short little gasps as she rocked herself harder against his hand. His hand was soaked in her juices, and it was tempting to pull away completely just to lick himself clean and taste her again. She was also getting increasingly louder...and as much as he liked it, on the road, they couldn’t have that. He shoved Strangers reins into one of her delicate hands.

‘Hold onto those while you come for me, little bird,’ Sandor murmured in her ear, clasping his free hand over her mouth.

At this Sansas entire body shook violently in his arms, the loud cry of her orgasm muffled by his large hand. Sandor continued rubbing slowly as she rode out wave after wave, a thin layer of sweat coating her as she puffed heavily.

After a time, Sandor grunted as he removed his hand from her skirts.

‘Happy now?’ He said roughly. ‘Going to stop wriggling about?’

He sounded harsher than he intended, possibly because he was wound up past breaking point at hearing her little gasps as she came down from her climax. It drove him wild. But he refused to pull over somewhere to relieve himself, what was he some green boy cunt who couldn’t control himself?

No...the little bird was safer this way if they kept going. They weren’t far enough from the city yet, and God’s be damned if he was going to let the City Watch catch up to them. Sensing his tension, Sansa regained her composure and handed Stranger’s reigns back to Sandor awkwardly, feeling extremely timid and embarrassed by her actions. She didn’t quite know what to say after their exchange. None of her words felt right.

_What had gotten into her lately?_ The next sept they came across...she would pray to the Maiden for some grace and self restraint. She had always felt strange things towards the man sitting so close behind her. There was something about him that just... _did_ things to her. And although she had these wanton thoughts towards him for awhile now, she had never acted on them...God’s be good, she thought with her cheeks burning, not until she had kissed him that night.

It all felt so long ago now. And now he treated her like a misbehaving child, she thought scathingly. _He_ had invaded her smallclothes, after all. She straightened her back a little, lifting her chin. She had done nothing wrong, and she refused to be treated like anything other than the Lady she was.

At the straightening of her back however, she felt something hard poking into her. Sansa’s eyes went wide with the realisation that it was his manhood. He was a man, after all, who of course had needs too. She just hadn’t expected it to feel so..well, hard. And big. She wondered what it looked like.

She knew he had pleasured himself last night (her stomach dropped at the thought), but she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of it in the aftermath of her release. Suddenly she wondered what it would have felt like in her hand, with her bringing him to his climax...

By the maiden, what would her Septa think of her having these thoughts! Sansa shook her head as if to clear her head, and decided on polite conversation instead.

‘Do you think we will stop for the evening?’

Sandor smirked. Already back to her chirping, so soon after moaning so prettily against his hand a few moments ago. He had been watching her, amused, ever since since she felt him poking into her back. He knew she felt it from the way she stiffened.

‘Can’t stop just yet. It’s not safe. We’ll ride through the night,’ he retorted shortly.

Sansa sighed at his, lapsing again into silence. Darkness fell over them, with only the sound of Stranger’s hooves hitting the ground as he trotted on and on. They passed a few inns which Sansa glanced at longingly, her stomach rumbling as she shivered in the cool night air.

As the hours wore on, she slumped further and further into the saddle against Sandor. He could feel her trembling against him, and without a word he thrust the reins into her hands again, using his now free hands to rub her arms and legs roughly. He patted her awkwardly, not used to trying to warm someone up, especially not someone so fragile and delicate.

Sansa appreciated it nonetheless, the warmth spreading over like a blanket and she closed her eyes blissfully.

‘T-thank you,’ she stuttered, her teeth chattering.

Sandor looked down at her, she had twisted in the saddle so that her head was now resting on his chest, her cheek pressed up against him. She looked so perfect resting there with her eyes closed.

It wasn’t long before her shivering stopped, and she was dozing, her deep breathing coming out in little tufts of white fog. Careful not to wake her, Sandor gently took the reins from her as she slept. He left one arm free to continue rubbing her back and arms to keep her warm - the last thing they needed was for her to catch a cold...he was no maester.

A small part of him couldn’t deny he enjoyed having her in his arms like this though. It still didn’t quite feel real...the reality of her being his responsibility now...him caring for her and getting her safely home. Back in King’s Landing, had it really been any different though? For some strange reason his fascination with the girl compelled him to protect her and watch over her. He couldn’t stand to see her get hurt, especially not from his doing. Gritting his teeth, he looked at her soft face once more, her lips slightly parted now in her slumber. This girl was going to be the death of him.


	2. Nameday Nakedness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is mortified to bathe in a nearby spring, but the sight of a naked Sandor helps distract her. She also discovers she can’t swim very well...need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one I struggled to write for some reason! Sandor has a lot of shit to sort out 😂 hope you enjoy! Xx

By the time the sun dawned on the horizon, Sandor was struggling to keep his eyes open. They had not stopped all night. Sansa slowly came to, somehow making yawning look ladylike and proper. ‘Good rest?’ Sandor asked sarcastically. Sansa eyed him hesitantly, eyes still groggy from sleep. Sandor fought the urge to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. It was an exhilarating and new sensation seeing her as she just woke up. He still couldn’t believe she was even here. With a sharp twang in his chest, he realised just how much he was enjoying her company. _Better not get used to it, dog. She’s not yours_.

Sansa on the other hand, couldn’t figure him out. The mysterious Hound. Sandor Clegane. The terrifying, horrible killer...who had saved her life on multiple occasions. Had acted as a true knight. Even whisked her away from King’s Landing after she’d refused. He had rubbed her warm last night, so gently. He had rubbed her in other places as well, she thought with a flush. He was always overly gentle with her, as if she was an expensive set of dinnerware. Or a baby bird, she thought amused. A loud snort from Stranger roused her, he was shaking his mane out impatiently.

‘S-ser! He needs to rest! We’ve been going nonstop!’ Sansa said pleadingly.

It was only when she turned and looked at Sandor himself she realised how forlorn he was looking as well. He was still covered in blood and dirt from the Blackwater, the cuts on his face starting to congeal around the bruises. His eyes were half closed, breathing heavily as he looked down at her, giving no response.

‘That’s it, we’re stopping! You need a rest as well, my lord.’

Sandor only snarled. Her niceties did nothing for his temper, and he spat on the ground as she looked at him reproachfully. She took a deep breath.

‘_Sandor_.’

That got his attention.

‘Aye? The little bird finally calls me by my real name and not that knightly shite,’ he rasped tiredly, mouth twitching slightly. Well...there had been that one other time. When she had been panting breathlessly, begging him for her release as he licked her over and over again. Sandor shook the image from his mind, not sure if he could handle another erection on this damn journey. 

Sansa cleared her throat. ‘Yes, and I will continue to do so if you only stop the horse now.’

Stubborn as anything, Sandor eventually sighed and made for the first clearing. He was annoyed to have to stop in daylight, but Stranger was in need of some water and at least he could see better to hunt by day. He almost fell off Stranger, his legs stiff from the long ride. Cursing, he shook them out and reached up to Sansa, hands clasping around her waist to pull her gently down. He heard a little gasp escape her lips and fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d had his hand in her skirts playing with her cunt only yesterday, and still she was afraid of him?

He settled her on the ground and quickly took his hands away, annoyed. The sound of a stream trickled nearby.

‘Come on, then. Let’s go fetch some water and get cleaned up,’ he growled.

Sansa struggled to conceal the look of alarm on her face. The things they had done was one thing...but take off her clothes, with him? In broad daylight? By the Maiden. She was horrified. The comfort of a highborn life was certainly started to take its toll. She missed her hot baths, where she didn’t have to strip down naked as her nameday with zero privacy.

‘I - um, I think I’ll wait until we reach the next inn,’ she chirped in a small voice.

Sandor barked a cruel laugh. ‘Couldn’t tell you when that’s going to be, girl. If I were you I’d get freshened up whenever the opportunity presents itself...like now.’

Sandor finished tying Stranger up and starting weaving through the trees towards the stream. Sansa followed in his footsteps, grimacing at the mud caking around her feet as she walked. Perhaps Sandor was right. They soon came upon a beautiful open stream with water clear as day. Sansa felt giddy just looking at it - to be clean again!

Not sure if he was delirious from lack of sleep, Sandor suddenly seemed to be in quite a jovial mood. The mood swings of this man.

‘Now I’ll have no peeping from you, little bird,’ he said, eyes twinkling as he started removing his armour.

Sansa gulped, realising she had never seen him out of his armour before, let alone naked. She flushed a deep shade of crimson, Sandor reverting back to The Hound as he bared his teeth in a terrifying grin.

‘You’re a pretty blusher, you know. I wonder if that pretty blush continues down your neck...’ he eyed her hungrily, the intense grey darkening as his eyes roamed further down her body. ‘...right down through to your pretty chest. Does it spread to your teats, little bird?’ He licked his lips, extracting a heavily muscled arm out of his armour.

Sansa had never seen anyone so arousing and terrifying at the same time. Her pulse quickened as she watched him kick off his boots. He was down to just a light tunic and breeches now, eyes never leaving her face and heaving chest. It was so oddly intimate seeing him in so little clothing - and Sansa was surprised at just how big he still was out of armour.

When she did not respond, Sandors grin faded and he sighed. ‘Go on then, girl. I’ll not watch you. Suppose this dog’s had more than his fair share already.’ At this, The Hound flashed her a wicked glance, smirking as he pulled off his tunic.

Sansa’s heart leapt into her throat...his body. Gods. His chest and arms...she had not been ready for it. Although covered in more scars (these from battle wounds she assumed), a ripple of hard muscles formed the whole front of his torso, a trail of black hair peppering down to his chiseled stomach. Bulging, round discs flexed on his biceps as he began to unlace his breeches. Sansa gulped.

_What had she expected, really?_ He was the most fierce warrior in Westeros. A lifetime of training and fighting, of course he was going to look like he was carved from stone. A ridiculously muscular stone. He was breath taking. Sensing her inner turmoil, Sandor stopped and looked up at her, clearly losing patience. Sansa caught a glimpse of something else too - was The Hound actually self concious?!

‘Are you going to stand there all day looking like you’ve just seen a fucking dragon? Snap out of it girl!’ He growled with an unexpected ferocity.

Sansa jumped. ‘I - sorry. It all just feels...rather improper is all.’ She backed towards a bush to allow her some dignity as she began unlacing her bodice.

Improper. Sandor smirked. The little bird didn’t seem to mind improper when she’d had shaking legs wrapped around his neck the other night, thrusting her juicy cunt into his mouth as she came. Sandors mouth salivated at the memory, and he quickly shoved the thoughts aside.

A full blown erection was the last thing he needed right now. The poor girl would be sure to have a heart attack. She had been in enough shock seeing his bare chest...not that he blamed her, he was an ugly brute after all. Keeping his promise, he waded into the water without a backward glance and kept his back to her as the water rushed up to his shoulders.

It was much deeper than it originally appeared. He heard dainty little splashes as Sansa made her way in.

‘Gods! It’s freezing!’ She gasped.

Sandor couldn’t help but chuckle. He ducked his head under the water and let the blood, sweat and grime wash away from his aching body. It felt amazing. When he re-emerged, he noticed with a jolt over his body how close the little bird had gotten. She was almost fully submerged, padding furiously as she battled to keep her head above the water.

Bloody hell. Without thinking, he reached out and clasped her arm, pulling her to the surface. Her skin was impossibly soft. He longed to touch the rest of her, feel her pressed up against him. She was stark naked and so goddamn close, it was hard to focus on anything else.

‘Do you enjoy getting yourself into trouble?’ He barked at her, swimming forward to find a more shallow part of the stream as he kept his hand wrapped around her upper arm. He could have sworn he felt his fingers graze her breast, immediately sending blood to his groin as his cock stiffened.

‘I don’t actually. I was just trying to wet my hair and the current pushed me out further,’ Sansa replied indignantly, a little out of breath.

Sandor quickly released her arm, and she immediately began to paddle and struggle again.

‘Can you not swim?’ He asked incredulously, the corner of his mouth uplifting into a smile as he fought back a laugh.

‘I was never the best swimmer, no,’ she gasped, head almost bobbing under again. ‘My brothers all used to at Winterfell, but I hated how cold it was so I never went in.’

‘For fucks sake. Hold on to me then, little bird.’

Without another word, he put one strong arm around her waist and pulled him to her, keeping one arm paddling. Sansa’s arms flung around his neck, relieved. Sandor’s cock throbbed painfully in pure ache as he felt her breasts bobbing against his chest. Seven hells. He should have relieved himself yesterday, the build up of want for her in the last few days was going to give him blue balls.

The intensity and closeness between them was electrifying. Managing to snap out of his lustful haze, Sandor noticed she was shaking violently, whether from exertion or fright he wasn’t sure.

‘That’s it. You’re alright now, little bird,’ he rasped, dark grey eyes boring into piercing blue.

Water beads dribbled down Sansa’s exposed back as she looked down at his face, lips parted and eyes slightly hooded as she struggled to regain her breath. She looked like a beautiful red-headed goddess. Sandor wouldn’t have been able to look away if he tried. Suddenly, his feet hit solid ground under the water and he could now stand up with ease.

Wasting no time, he swung his other hand around under her bottom, bringing her long beautiful legs up to wrap around his waist. Sansa’s breath hitched as she felt his arousal press into her.

‘Seven hells, woman. I’m tempted to have you every which way in this lake right now. Fill you up with my cock...would you like that?’

Sansa reddened at the words, but Sandor didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up and she bit her lip in anticipation. He growled, grabbing her hips and thrusting against the warm mound between her thighs. She felt so fucking good in his arms. Both of their breathing was becoming heavy as the tension built, neither one able to break eye contact as their bodies pressed up against eachother. Sansa licked her lips as she wriggled against him. Fucking hells, did she know how sexy she was?

As much as he threatened to, Sandor would not be the one to take her Maidenhead. No...he would not take something so special and important from her. It was always a punch to the gut to remember the little bird was not his and never would be. Once he got her back home to Winterfell she would marry some highborn cunt. Someone right for her. And there was no way in seven hells he would be the reason for her losing her Maidenhead before that...no matter how long he had wanted her, or how much he had thought about it...

Breaking him from his thoughts, Sansa’s soft lips came crashing down on his lips, and it was all he could to grab a fistful of her wet hair and deepen the kiss. He growled as she ground her hips against him, sending him wild with lust. Quickly as she started it, she broke the kiss and began showering him in little kisses all over his face - scarred side and all. It touched Sandor - how was she not disgusted? A whore would never have kissed the scarred side of his face, if they kissed him at all.

It felt...wonderful. And loving. And.._what the fuck was happening to him?_ Horrified, Sandor felt tears welling up at Sansa’s soft kisses, embracing him...it brought up so much emotion he could barely stand it. Furious at himself, furious at the world, Sandor snarled as he pushed Sansa off him.

‘You should be able to swim from here now,’ he spat at her. Blinking back hot tears, he fixed his face into his usual menacing scowl and stormed away.


	3. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is left hurt and shocked by Sandor’s outburst in the lake...and needless to say tempers flare.
> 
> Weirdly, Sandor ends up getting a blowjob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let’s be honest...this chapter is basically just porn. I can’t help their unbelievable chemistry though! 🙈 I promise there is a plot embedded in this story somewhere...coming more so in the next chapter 😂  
P.S. I’m sorry my chapters aren’t super long...that’s just not how I operate. Let me know if you’d like some lengthier chapters though and I will do my best!

Sansa stood shivering and in shock in the stream. What had just happened? She had lost control completely, so caught up in the moment kissing the rough skin on his face, loving the contrast...when he just flung her off. Did she do something wrong? Admittedly, she had no idea how to please a man. Still, he didn’t have to be such a brute about it,she thought crossly. It was humiliating being rejected like that, especially since she was completely naked and alone now, feeling like a stupid little girl. Her lip trembled as she stepped out of the water, shaking from head to toe in the cold. She dressed silently, making her way back up to their clearing before the sun disappeared. 

Some few hours later after setting up a small camp, Sandor settled himself into his ragged blanket and rolled over to watch the last of the fire die away. The two rabbits he had caught had gone down well, with neither of them having ate very much for the last few days. Sandor still would have preferred chicken though. 

There had been a tense silence since the incident in the stream. Sandor wasn’t sure what was worse, her incessant chirping or cold silence. 

‘I’d murder someone for a skin of wine,’ he growled lowly. He truely meant it, there was nothing he felt like more after his little outburst before, but he was more so looking for an excuse to break the silence. 

‘I think you’d murder someone just for the joy of it, too. It’s the sweetest thing there is, isn’t that right?’ Sansa retorted icily. Sandor looked up in shock, a pang of guilt hitting him as he remembered that conversation with the little bird. Anger quickly replaced his guilt, teeth baring as he replied.

‘Might be. If you don’t learn to hold your tongue, might be you’ll be next to go, little wolf bitch.’ 

Sansa’s eyes flared brightly as she jumped from her bedroll to stand over him. She didn’t know what came over her, but after his rejection in the water and that last remark, she was wild with rage. Her chest was heaving as she reached down to slap him across the cheek.

‘How dare you -‘ she cried, hand flying out, only to have The Hound react instantly and catch it in one of his huge paws. He snarled, looking terrifying in the light of the fire as his eyes flashed with anger. 

‘Let go of me!’ Sansa screamed, trying to wriggle her hand free. The Hound seemed amused by her attempt in vain, and instead pulled her down onto his chest. Their faces were now inches apart. Sansa’s face contorted in frustration. 

‘Oh, you really are a big brute!’ Sansa pounded at his chest with her free hand, curled into a tiny fist. Sandor looked at her in bemusement, hardly able to feel her blows. She started to cry, a build up of everything since they had left King’s Landing exploding from her....the stress, the lack of sleep, privacy, food...and even though she knew Sandor was taking her North, she missed her family terribly and it felt like she was never going to get there. She sobbed uncontrollably, all anger leaving her as she let her head drop forward, forehead on The Hound’s chest. Sandor was still trying to process what had just happened. Not sure what to do, he stroked her hair gently, the same way he had drunkenly done that night in her room. He immediately felt remorseful of his actions...why did the girl set him off so much? 

They both stayed like that for quite some time as they calmed down, the hours of tension melting away. Slowly, Sansa’s sobs resided and she became aware of the wanton position she was in. She was laying sprawled across his chest, one leg brought upwards resting on his hip and the other dangling near his feet. He was so large that not a single part of her was touching the cold ground. She sighed, he was much more comfortable than her thin bed roll. Sandor had been quiet for a long time, but her face heated as she felt a gradual hardness pressing against her tummy. 

Propping herself up on an elbow, she looked up at Sandors face. He was eyeing her with a mixture of apprehension and arousal. 

‘Sandor...’ she breathed, regaining her confidence. ‘I’m going to try this again, okay?’ 

Slowly, ever so slowly Sansa slid forward until she was inches from his face. She bent her head down and began tracing the lightest of kisses along the base of his neck.

She felt Sandor tense under her, but thankfully there was no outburst as her lips made their way to the unburned side of his face. She planted slow, deliberate, soft kisses on every patch of his skin...the intimacy she felt from this small action alone made her skin feel like it was on fire. She felt a small bubble in her chest that continued to grow as she gently kissed her way up his forehead. 

Sandor’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing shallow as he willed his body to relax. The problem with that though, once he relaxed he realised how buggering turned on he was getting...she was laying on top of him, in his arms, kissing him over and over....was this a dream? 

His thoughts quickly turned to reality as Sansa’s soft lips found the marred side of his face. He flinched as she pressed her lips into every bit of skin she could find. Even though he had lost a lot of feeling on this side of his face, he couldn’t help but recoil thinking how disgusted she must be. And yet...this was the second fucking time in a day she had kissed his fucking scars like this. She bloody well can’t find him that revolting then...unless the girl was contracting some kind of premature blindness. 

All of a sudden, a deep throb in his manhood took away all coherent thought. An agonising pressure was building in Sandors crotch, his cock was throbbing with the need for release. Grabbing her face, he crashed his lips to hers in a fierce embrace. She returned the kiss eagerly, her mouth opening to welcome Sandor’s tongue as he massaged it in small and passionate circles around her own. He couldn’t help but grind up against Sansa, needing some kind of friction to ease the aching bulge. With each thrust though, the pressure mounted and he needed more. He groaned into her mouth, hands roaming over the curves of her body, squeezing her arse cheeks. Sansa broke the kiss and gasped.

‘Sandor - I want to try something. I want - to feel you...to- to help you the way you helped me.’ She finished shyly, a small hand trailing down his stomach. Sandor’s breeches tightened even more so, his cock springing at her words. He grunted, struggling to find coherent words as her hand now came to a rest over the massive bulge in his breeches. 

‘Are you - are you sure, little bird?’ 

She nodded enthusiastically, hand pressing down. Sandor didn’t need anymore assurance, desperate for release as he quickly unlaced his breeches. He shivered at the contact from the cool air, the tip of his cock so engorged and sensitive from arousal that he could already feel his precum. Sansa’s eyes widened as his evident excitement sprung out. 

She licked her lips, wrapping a gentle hand around the girth of it. Sandor groaned, closing his eyes from the pure pleasure of her touch. He gritted his teeth and hissed out a breath as she placed a second hand around it, this one closer to pulsating tip. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had wanted this for so long it was a wonder he didn’t explode right there and then into her delicate little hands. Unable to control his arousal, Sandor bucked his hips up into her soft hands, needing release of some kind. He didn’t want to scare her off but he figured she needed some kind of guidance, being a Maiden and all. He reached down and placed his massive hand over her two and began stroking, moving hers with his. 

‘That’s it, little bird. That’s the rhythm. Just stroke it like that. Grip a little tighter.’ Sandor grunted as she did what he said, hardly able to breathe as his mouth fell open in pleasure. Emboldened, Sansa started to stroke faster as she watched him. He removed his hand and his eyes clouded over lustfully, letting out a shaky sigh as she gained confidence and pumped harder. She could feel herself dampening between her thighs just from doing this to him. It was intoxicating. The quickened pace soon had him writhing and panting under her hands, groaning deeply through his chest. Sansa had never heard anything more arousing. 

‘Sansa...so close...please...just a little tighter...’ he begged. She was loving having this power over him. The ferocious Hound. Putty in her hands in this moment, she was sure he would do anything she asked. She grinned wickedly, an idea coming to her as she eyed the tip of his oozing member. She longed to taste it. All of a sudden, she removed her hands and Sandor cried out, eyes flinging open as he moaned in desperation. He didn’t have to wait long as Sansa slowly settled herself down at his crotch, looking up at him mischievously. She remembered how he had teased her...what was the harm in a little payback? 

Dipping her head closer and closer, agonisingly slow, she exhaled a warm breathe over the tip where she thought it might be the most sensitive. 

‘Fuck me, woman,’ Sandor growled in response, letting out a hiss through gritted teeth. Woman now, not girl. Sansa quite liked that. Her hair fell forward, grazing the tip of his cock tantalisingly.

‘Ahhh...’ he groaned, an involuntary thrust of his hips causing his member to bump against her chin. 

‘What is it, Sandor?’ She purred, looking up at him with her most innocent expression. 

Sandor stared back at her in shock for a few seconds. Then his face split into a pained grin, throwing his head back as his eyes closed. 

‘You’re enjoying this, you little wench.’ 

Sansa let out a little giggle, she was definitely enjoying this. After so many years of feeling trapped, powerless in King’s Landing...it was exhilarating to have this kind of power over someone. And not just anyone. Power over Sandor Clegane, the most feared warrior in the South. Not wanting to torture him too much, and getting impatient herself to taste him, Sansa slowly placed her wet, warm mouth over the tip of his throbbing member. She moaned at the feel of it engulfing her mouth, looking up at Sandors face to gage his reaction. His eyes shot open. Seven hells. The little bird didn’t need any guidance for this. 

‘Fuck, Sansa!’ He cried out, hips bucking uncontrollably into her mouth. She giggled, withdrawing it as she placed delicate little licks and kisses up and down the sides. It was huge. There was so much to taste. Sandor was panting like a wild dog, body taught and beads of sweat forming on his brow as he writhed under her mouth. When she placed it fully back in her mouth again, taking in as much as she could, he could not resist any longer. Her eyes widened as he grasped a fistful of her hair.

‘I’m sorry, little bird. I can’t...been too...long...’ he grunted, and he thrust his cock deeper and deeper into her wet mouth, making her gag a little as  
saliva dribbled down her chin. Sansa felt wetness pooling in her smallclothes from the sensation, it was so arousing to her that he lost all self control. Yet even in this state, she knew he would never hurt her. After a few more erratic pumps, Sandor cried out wildly, withdrawing himself from her mouth as he rolled over, spurting a thick white liquid into his hand. His whole body quaked over and over as each spurt came out, and he eventually fell back exhausted and spent. 

Sandor laid like that for a few moments, his heavy breathing slowly coming back to normal. Eventually, he rolled onto his back to find Sansa looking at him, a smug expression on her face.

‘You said my name...twice,’ she said happily. 

Sandor let out a rough laugh, like a chainsaw.

‘That’s the first thing you say to me after _that_?’ He grinned, his release after days of tension making him feel like a green boy. ‘Aye, I suppose I did little bird. What’s it to you?’ 

__

__

Sansa blushed. ‘I liked it.’ 

Sandor yawned. ‘Well, I suppose we’re on a first name basis now,’ he murmured sleepily. His eyelids dropped heavily, after two days without sleep he was now struggling to stay awake. 

__

__

‘Gods be damned though..you’re a fast learner, little bird.’ He was struggling to find words. He pulled her close to his side with one arm and attempted pulling up her skirts with the other. He had every intention of returning the favour, eager to touch her again, but his arm dropped heavily as he tried to keep it up. 

‘Sandor...’ she whispered gently, ‘go to sleep.’ 

He didn’t need anymore convincing, passing out seconds later on his side with his arm still halfway up her skirts. She extracted it gently, and Sandor, dead to the world, nuzzled into her neck in his deep sleep, one arm still around her back. He didn’t move all night.


	4. The Last Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of an update - hope this chapter makes up for the wait. I promise there’s some actual plot embedded in this chapter 😂

A faint yet intoxicating lemon smell. That was the first thing that filled Sandor’s nostrils the next morning as the brightness dawned around them.

His eyes shot open, and he quickly realised he was wrapped up in a multi-limbed embrace with the little bird. He inhaled deeply against her neck, imprinting her wonderful scent to his memory. His pulse quickened as he remembered the events from the previous evening. Gods...had that really happened? Surely not, even in his wildest dreams...

He felt Sansa stirring next to him and slowly eased himself out of her tangled limbs to a sitting position, mind reeling. Behind him, Sansa let out a content sigh. Sandor whipped around, eyes wide as he stared down at her.

‘Good morning, Sandor,’ She smiled. ‘What an ever so lovely morning, wouldn’t you agree?’ 

Sandor fought the urge to roll his eyes. Grunting in response, he fixed her with a piercing stare, trying to ignore how beautiful and soft her skin looked in the morning glow.

‘Tell me true, little bird. Did that really happen yesterday, or do I have the lord of light to thank for that unbelievable dream?’ 

The bright red flush that invaded Sansa’s face, nearly matching her hair told him everything he needed to know. 

‘I...well, if it please you, Sandor...I - I was only curious and I wanted to return the favour,’ she finished in a voice so small he had to tilt his head forward to hear her. Sansa wrung her hands as if she had done something wrong. The fact that it was the complete opposite made Sandor bark a loud laugh, gathering her up into his lap. He gave her earlobe a gentle nip and spoke as gently as his rough voice would allow.

‘Yes it pleased me, little bird. How could it not? A beautiful little thing like you, lips wrapped around my cock? I’d be a madman if it didn’t.’ He said it casually enough, but deep down he knew it was something he had fantasised about for years from her. To finally have it happen made him feel giddy. 

Seven hells, snap out of it dog. She said herself she was merely curious. Doesn’t mean she wants to be feasting on your cock everyday. Still, he’d never felt that kind of satisfaction from other more experienced women before. There wasn’t that desire there..he barely remembered what they even looked like. Her face, though...it would be engrained into his memory until the day he died. From the moment he had locked eyes with her all those years ago, he knew he would never forget her face.His next words pained him, but he wiped all emotion out of it. It would do no good to dwell. 

‘As much as I enjoyed your...curiosity,’ Sandor smirked, ‘we can’t be doing anymore of that, girl. Your Maidenhead needs to stay intact for when I get you back to Winterfell. I imagine the fearsome King of the North would have my head if I delivered you any other way,’ he finished in a bored voice. Sansa’s stomach plummeted and she looked at her feet that were dangling out of Sandor’s lap. Back to girl now, she thought with a stab of shame, is that all I am to him? 

Sansa missed Sandor’s look of longing as he slowly slid his hands up from her waist to her arms, squeezing her gently. 

‘Not that I’m not tempted to...’ he said more to himself, as he eyed her petite form that was pulled against him in his lap, the curve of her breast rising and falling slightly under the cloak. Given his way, he would have ripped off that cloak and fucked her bloody by now. The thought sent a jolt of pleasure to his groin, and he growled lowly into her thick mop of auburn hair. Sansa looked up in shock at the noise, her small hand coming up to clasp a fistful of his tunic. Fuck it...he needed to feel her one last time. Give her something to remember him by. 

One strong arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, Sandor’s other arm began to slowly trail down her body. He kept his eyes fixed on her blue ones, which were widening by the second. Sansa’s mouth parted in a small ‘o’ as his large hand reached the soft mound of her breast. He squeezed it gently, loving the way her lashes fluttered prettily and her back arched in response to his touch. She let out a shaky breath as Sandor unfastened the clasp of the cloak, revealing her bare neckline that plunged down on the tops of her breasts. 

‘Mmmm,’ Sandor growled. ‘You definitely look a woman now, little bird. I’d say this is my favourite dress on you, the way it pushes those teats of yours up.’ At his words, Sandor cupped her fully and slowly eased one of her breasts out of the dress as he tugged it down. Sansa’s breath caught and she wriggled slightly in resistance to the cool morning air on her exposed nipple. 

Sandor was eyeing the beautiful, pink tip of her bud hungrily, his breathing becoming more ragged and his breeches tightening already. She was so perfect. He chuckled at Sansa’s wriggling, noticing how hardened her nipple was becoming in the cool air. 

‘Quit rustling your feathers, girl. I’ll warm you up,’ he growled, lowering his mouth slowly over exposed bud. 

Sansa inhaled sharply at the sensation his tongue brought, a jolt rushing through her chest right down to her nether regions as he lazily circled the hardened tip. Gods, it felt good. 

Sandor groaned. She tasted so sweet. This is the last time, he swore to himself as he cupped her other swollen breast greedily and kneaded it gently. She melted in his arms, letting out a soft sigh as Sandor turned his attention to her other nipple. 

‘Oh, Sandor...’ Sansa breathed, her eyes fluttering closed. Sandor grunted in response, but inside his heart skipped a beat. It was the sweetest thing there was, her saying his name like that. Everytime she did it shattered a piece of the icy wall he had built inside his heart to shield anymore pain. She was slowly breaking down that wall, piece by piece. Damned little bird. 

Sansa let her hands caress his large shoulders as he continued to suckle at her breasts hungrily. A hand now free, Sandor slid it slowly down her heaving rib cage to rest on her lower belly. Sansa’s leg twitched. She had clearly not expected him to stop there given their previous encounters. 

‘Mmm...’ Sandor growled, pulling his mouth away to give her a rough, hard kiss. He took her gasp as an opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth, and she kissed him back just as passionately, a hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. Just as suddenly, Sandor pulled away and the hand that was resting on her belly started to toy with the hem of her skirts. 

He eyed her face intently. He needed to hear her say it. That she needed him, wanted him. Just once. Then he could give her away, escort her back to her family and watch her marry someone else. Sandor almost snorted. Who the fuck was he kidding? He’d be well on his fucking way out of the North, as far as fucking possible from the fuckers before he ever witnessed the little bird with someone else. Gods dammit, why did that bother him so much? 

Sansa bit her lip and shifted impatiently, immediately bringing Sandor out of his daze. 

‘What do you want, little bird?’ He tried to ask coyly, but his voice was as rough as steel on rock. 

Sansa reddened, lowering her gaze as her arms instinctively came up to cover her chest. Sandor pushed her arms away and gave both of her teats a lingering kiss in encouragement. 

She let out a low moan in response. ‘I don’t know...for you to - to touch me,’ she finished breathlessly. Her eyes were still looking at her hands in her lap shyly. 

‘Well you should have said,’ Sandor replied teasingly, hitching up her skirts to allow him better access. His hand slowly ran up her thigh along her thin stockings. 

‘Look at me,’ he growled as his hand came to a rest on her inner thigh. Sansa’s breathing quickened as she lifted her gaze to meet his grey eyes. They were dark with lust, the look between them more intense than ever. 

Sansa could feel a pool of wetness forming between her thighs as the gaze continued. Slowly, Sandor reached up and dragged her stockings down her legs, never taking breaking eye contact. Sansa lifted her hips in her eagerness to help him ease them off. Her skin felt as if it were on fire. She didn’t know when, but she now had both arms wrapped around his neck, her breasts pressed up against his armour, which was making her tingle all over. 

Legs now bare, Sandor took his time running a large hand up over her thighs, spreading her limbs gently as he went. His touch felt electrifying on her bare skin. Her core was aching to be touched. Now that she knew the pleasure his touch could bring, she could hardly stand another second of this. She squirmed impatiently in his lap, a thickly muscled arm wrapped securely around her upper back holding her in place. 

Sandor reached the junction at her thighs and cupped the warmth of her mound. Sansa made a very unladylike sound. She couldn’t help herself...her womanplace was throbbing with ache and him finally touching her almost sent her over the edge right there and then. Sandor pressed lightly down on her centre, eliciting another moan. 

‘Is that what you want, little bird?’ He whispered in her ear, his voice gravel. 

‘Y-yes...oh gods...please, more,’ Sansa gasped. Sandor smirked. Almost...but not quite what he wanted to hear. He slipped a finger inside her smallclothes and began rubbing her swollen nub slowly. Her wetness alone drove him wild, but he needed to hear her say it just this once. 

He gave her a light tap on the sensitised bundle of nerves and felt extremely satisfied watching her whole body shudder with the sudden pleasure. Her breathing was coming in pants now, eyes threatening to flutter closed again. 

‘Is this what you need little bird? Tell me how much you want it.’ Sandor increased his pace circling her nub, making her moan even louder and grasp his neck tighter. 

‘Yes, I need it...want it - so much,’ she managed to pant out, her head rolling back as she writhed against his hand. Sandor groaned at her words. Good enough. 

Replacing his thumb on her clit, he continued rubbing her as he suddenly plunged his forefinger into her tightness. Sansa screamed out, and Sandor kissed her just in time to muffle the sound as felt her slit pulse and tighten maddeningly around his finger. A surge of wetness coated his other fingers and he couldn’t help but groan into her mouth, wishing it was his cock in place of his fingers. 

He continued to kiss her gently and rub her as she came down from her orgasm. Her whole body was trembling and she giggled against his mouth. Gods she was a sweet little thing. That he wanted to fuck badly. They needed to get out of here. Now. 

He removed his hand and placed her stockings in her hand before gently pushing her up. His cock throbbed painfully. 

‘We best get a move on, little bird. Mayhaps we’ll find an inn to stay the night in.’ As soon as he said the words Sandor cursed himself inwardly. Why the fuck did he say that? They needed to avoid inns, it was still too soon and unsafe. He was thinking with his cock clearly, all the blood seemed to have gone there. It was too late however. Sansa’s whole face had already lit up and she squealed excitedly. 

‘Oh, really Sandor?! I could have a bath, a real bath! And a cosy featherbed!’ She was almost jumping for joy. Another piece of the wall hacked away in his chest. The whole thing was practically fucking melting. He could not say no to her now. 

He strode over to Stranger and prepared his saddle. ‘If you shut your chirping we might just get to one before nightfall,’ he muttered moodily. Sansa’s face fell slightly but she was still clearly ecstatic as she began packing up their bedrolls. In her eagerness, it didn’t take much time at all. 

They were up and on the road again within the hour, Sansa snuggled into Sandors chest as they rode. She was certainly a lot more comfortable with him now. Sandor however stiffened, trying to scoot as far back as possible on Stranger. He knew he had to nip whatever was happening between them in the bud. Especially since they were nearing an inn. It was time to go to back to reality. 

Seeing lights far ahead, Sansa turned around and grinned at Sandor. 

‘We’re almost there!’ 

Sandor merely grunted in response. His mood had turned sour. He prayed to the Stranger there would be no trouble at the inn. He didn’t feel much like killing tonight, surprisingly. He would be glad of a wineskin or two though, rid his mind of the little bird for the night. 

When they were within a few miles, Sansa was practically bouncing off the saddle in excitement. A stableboy greeted them, and helped Sansa hop down from Stranger. Sandor noticed his hands linger too long her waist, and snarled at him to get Stranger some food and water for the night. Normally this was something he would do but he didn’t feel much like sending the little bird into the inn by herself or with this green boy. 

Making sure her hood was fully up and cloak covering that fire red hair, Sandor pushed open the door of the tavern. A blast of music and men jeering and laughing greeted them. Sandor could almost feel the numerous pairs of eyes oggling them as he approached the bar wench. Sansa stayed glued to his elbow. 

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small sack, filled with some of his tourney winnings. 

‘A room for the night. And wine. As much as you can spare,’ he rasped. He felt Sansa tug at his elbow and smirked. He’d almost forgotten. 

‘And a hot bath for the girl.’ 

The wench eyed his face in horror and nodded her understanding as she took his coin. She passed a key to him and glanced at Sansa with a strange expression. Sandor scowled, annoyed as he turned away to head up the stairs. As he took a step, a small bearded man stepped in front of him and blocked their path. 

‘Well if it isn’t the infamous Hound. I didn’t believe the rumours to be true, Clegane. But here we are,’ the man smirked, a cunning gleam in his eye. 

Buggering hells. It was Littlefinger. Or Little Fuck, as Sandor referred to him. 

What the fuck is he doing here? Sandor didn’t like it one bit. Whenever the Little Fuck was around trouble always followed. He was a conniving little cunt. This couldn’t be good.


	5. Hound Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a battle/fight scene and I think it shows...lol. Hope it’s not too gory/violent! But then again, this is GoT 🤪 any feedback would be much appreciated!

Sandor bristled as he fixed Petyr Baelish with his most menacing scowl. He brought himself up to full height, towering over the smaller man. 

‘What do you want, you worthless rat. Do you know what dogs do to rats?’ He spat out, baring his teeth in a threatening snarl. 

The guards behind Littlefinger cowered, but he merely looked calmly up into The Hound’s face, a slight smile curling on his lips. Sansa instinctively moved out of view behind Sandor - she had an inkling this wasn’t going to end well. 

‘I could ask you the same question, Hound. Do you know how many gold dragons it is for your head these days?’ Littlefinger sneered. Sandor remained silent, his jaw clenched shut as he stared down at him. The only sound to be heard was his heavy breathing, which came out through his nostrils like a wild bull. It was at this moment the bar wench from earlier delivered Sandor’s wine skin he had ordered.

‘My lord - your wine, if it please you,’ she said hurriedly, backing away as he snatched it from her. He didn’t bother to correct her, too eager for that first drop of red liquid. He tore off the cap with his teeth, and chugged the entire thing back. One eye never left Littlefinger, he must remain vigilant. The little bird was right behind him, and he would not let anything happen to her. 

After a few deep swallows, Sandor had finished the entire skin and smacked his lips together, letting out a breath as he wiped his mouth. Emboldened, he continued to stare down at Baelish with a look of indifference. He was certainly a lot less tense now, and if he could somehow talk his way out of this, mayhap the little fuck wouldn’t even notice the little bird. She was only small after all.

Littlefinger smirked. ‘Tut tut, rat got your tongue?’ His head cocked to the side, pausing dramatically as he measured up the much larger man. 

‘I never thought I’d see the day the loyal Hound became a turncloak. Killing, raping and whoring your way through Westeros...but treason? No, I never saw that one coming. And I really thought I knew all of the liars at court,’ he finished with a sneer. 

Sandor’s face contorted with anger, his fist closing. Sansa eyed it nervously. 

‘Seems you have your facts wrong, Little Fuck. Might be you’re thinking of my brother. I’m no rapist, and I’m certainly no liar. Aye, I’m not a good man but I’m better for leaving that hellhole. The others take the boy king, cunt that he was. Not afraid to admit my treason on that little piece of shit.’ 

The noise of the inn had lowered significantly. At The Hound’s last words, there was a collective gasp and talking stopped altogether. Whores whispered in the ears of their lovers, while the men nudged back to silence them, eager to listen to the conversation taking place. Noticing the sudden silence, Sandor turned and roared, ‘What? Fuck the King!’ 

His wineskin had apparantly already kicked in, Sansa thought as she groaned inwardly.  
There were some sniggers cast around, yet no one dared contest or challenge him. Appeased, Sandor turned back to Littlefinger and his guards. 

Littlefinger had a smug look on his scrawny face. His eyes flashed in an evil but excited way, as if he were a spider and a nice juicy fly had just landed in his web. 

‘Not a liar you say, Clegane? Can you tell me then, who is your pretty friend behind you there?’ 

Fuck. What folly he had been thinking that she would go unnoticed, even covered up she turned heads everywhere she went. It also didn’t help that half of Westeros was probably looking for her. Why the fuck did he suggest coming to an inn? 

Sandor grimaced, someone was going to die tonight...and it certainly wasnt going to be him or Sansa. That got his blood right up. 

‘Wench! Another skin of wine!’ He barked at the bar. 

Littlefinger flashed an evil grin, trying to peak behind Sandor. ‘Oh don’t be a greedy dog, give us a look at your shiny new bone, Clegane,’ he said softly. It was so soft it was deadly. Sansa immediately stepped further behind Sandor, trying in vain to keep her head down and not show her eyes or hair. Her two most distinguishing features. 

Sandor reached around and wrapped a protective arm around her, pulling her tighter against his back. 

‘Is a man not allowed to pay for a good fuck these days?’ He snarled, trying to sound bored and indifferent. The bar wench scurried over to deliver his second wine skin. 

Without looking at her, he snatched it from her hand and proceeded to down it in the same manner as the first. It took him all of 30 seconds. Littlefinger’s grin broadened as he watched the muscles in The Hounds neck working to drain every last drop. Sansa tensed behind him, she wished he would remain sober for this encounter. Her heart was pounding. 

‘No, no Clegane. You know that I of all people have a lot of love for the trade. It’s just...’ his brow furrowed, ‘well, I know that underneath that cloak you’re hiding Sansa Stark.’ 

Sansa’s stomach plummeted, eyes wide. She felt like she was going to be sick. The next events all happened so quickly. It was a blur. She heard the clink of steel against scabbard as Sandor unsheathed his sword. Extremely nimble for a man of his size, he had lunged a powerful strike at Baelish with both arms in an instant. 

He was not quick enough however. Perhaps a second too slow from the drink, one of the heavily armoured guards parried his blow as Littlefinger ducked out of the way. Sandor’s sword came crashing against it in a loud clang. 

Breaking the contact and swinging around, Sandor reached quickly for Sansa and practically threw her underneath a nearby table out of harms way. A heartbeat later, the second guard had jumped on Sandor’s back, grasping two thick arms around his neck in a strangle. 

There were screams and shouts amongst the inn as people hastened to leave and not be a victim of the fight. Sandor roared, latching onto his attackers arm as his sank his teeth into his flesh. The man shrieked but held onto him for dear life as Sandor whirled around, sword in hand. The look in his eyes was feral as he approached the first guard. He threw off the man clutched on his back as if he were an inconvenient piece of clothing. 

The man scurried away to a table of men who had lingered behind. They were fussing about with something, but Sansa couldn’t see what it was. She was frozen in fear. Where had Littlefinger gone? A spark caught her eye, and she suddenly realised they were lighting a huge fire torch. 

‘Nooo!’ She shrieked, attempting to stand up but her legs were jelly. Tears welled in her eyes. He hates fire. Please don’t let them use that against him. 

At her cry, Sandor’s eyes immediately found hers under the table. Upon seeing she was not in immediate danger, he continued advancing on the second guard. 

He laughed cruelly as the man cowered. 

‘I’ve missed killing cravens like you. _ Knights. _ All shiny armour and no show.’ He slurred a little as he spoke, the wine hitting him more each minute. Still, he was steady on his feet as he slashed the man almost in half in a heartbeat. Blood sprayed all over the back wall, and the man merely gurgled as he fell to his death. 

‘Sandor! They’ve got fire!’ He heard the little bird cry. 

He whirled around, eyes wide. The room was spinning as Sandor saw a bright flame erupt in the tavern, the man holding the torch approached quickly. There were four of them, and they had him surrounded. The first man swung the fire torch in his face, and he recoiled with a snarl. Getting unsteady on his feet, he slipped and fell to his knee as the fire whirled overhead. 

‘Not so tough are you now, dog?’ One of the men shouted. 

‘Aye, everyone knows the fire turns him craven.’ Another spat with a satisfied smirk. That was when he lunged at Sandor’s face, slicing his brow open with a sharp blow. Sansa was now openly sobbing, she felt helpless. She couldn’t look away. 

The Hound roared, coming quickly to his feet and thrusting his sword directly into the man’s stomach with a sickening crunch. Just as quickly, he withdrew the sword and blocked his next opponent’s blow. 

Sandor felt sweat and blood blocking his vision as the flame came too near to his face once more. Panic stunted him for a split second, which was all it took. The third man broke a bottle over his head as the fourth jabbed him in the back with a dagger, stabbing repeatedly through the gaps in his armour. He was taking full advantage of the fact that Sandor had frozen in fear at the flame flashing before his marred face. Sandor fell to the floor of the inn in an enormous crash, screaming for the fire to be put out. 

Two of the men jumped on top of him to pin him down. Sandor heard Sansa screaming, and managed to catch a glimpse of her being ushered out from the table by Littlefinger. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her in the direction of the exit. The last thing Sandor saw before passing out was her terrified look back at him, trying to escape Petyr Baelish’s grasp. 

*******************

Sandor awoke to sun streaming through the window of the inn and pain all over his body. He was laying in a sticky pool of blood. He groaned, rolling over as his head pounded to join his aching body. Buggering wine. Flashes of the previous evening came to his mind, and his heart constricted in his chest. He’d let the little bird be taken right before his very eyes. It was all his fault. Now Little Fuck had her and who knows what kind of sick scheme he had planned for her. 

He banged his curled fist into the floor, punching it hard. The sound seemed to have alerted someone upstairs, and moments later he heard scurried footsteps pattering down the flight of stairs. 

‘Oh, I wasn’t sure if you’d wake or not!’ It was the bar wench who had served him last night. ‘You were in such a bad way, I figured you were a goner. Needed to wait for my sons to arrive today to help me move your body.’ 

Sandor grunted. Her overwhelming concern was touching. Ignoring her, he grasped her arm roughly. 

‘The girl...’ He rasped, giving her a shake. ‘Did you see where they took her? What direction were they headed? I need to find her!’ 

She looked down at him with a sad smile. ‘I’m sorry my lord. I was hiding upstairs by that point praying to the gods it would all be over soon. I wish I could help,’ she added, casting him a sideways glance as she began tending to his wounds. 

Sandor closed his eyes, defeated. It was too late. The bar wench observed him curiously as she worked. 

‘You’re a right brute you know, a proper beast. Coming in here demanding drink and wreaking havoc. You’re as ferocious as what they all say.’ She snipped a loose piece of his tunic, using it now as a bandage for one of his many open wounds. 

‘But seeing you with that Northern girl...I don’t know. I saw something else. Something soft. It was quite beautiful to watch, really.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. Just kidding...there will be a Part 3 ;) I have it all mapped out in my head, just not on paper yet. All in good time my sweet summer children <3


End file.
